That Thing That Might Have Happened
by DrkVrtx
Summary: What happens off-screen, stays off-screen. Happy, fun, Episode 4 Masami smut times.


"I feel so safe with you."

Asami said it with endearing softness to her voice, afterwards making herself small and tucking up close against him. Mako couldn't help but smile warmly as he met her hand laid upon his chest with his own, worn, faded leather against soft, feminine skin.

Her pleasant perfume tickled the rim of his nostrils, never overpowering but just enough to detect and savour, like the fruitful hint of fine wine. Of course, he had never stood with those upper echelons of society and partook of such an activity, wine-tasting that is. He was just about fit to step foot into Kwong's Cuisine. 'Classy' was not a descriptor he would usually lend to himself but, for a moment, being with Asami had made him feel just like that. She brought him just within reach of a life he was otherwise beyond.

Tilting his head, Mako let his cheek rest against her hair. It was soft and luxuriously thick, spilling along her shoulders and down her back, black as the night sky and seeming to perpetually shimmer. He let the clean and fragrant smell, no doubt derived of some rare, exotic flower he couldn't hope to name, pull him into an almost trance-like state of appreciation bordering on worship. The slight stir he felt south of his stomach was beyond his control, though he tempered it as best as he could.

Mako had been entranced by Asami's wonderful locks from the very first moment she shook them free of her helmet. How could he not be? They were the perfect frame for the positively otherworldly portrait of beauty that stood before him. That she had pretty much thrown her moped into him mattered not at all anymore. He stared, virtually speechless, his anger effectively neutered and his body tingling all over for reasons that had little to do with pain. Eyes that sparkled like precious stones; lips full, red and shaped with a subtle pout; skin a healthy cream tone, smooth with a pale hint; lashes long, dark and alluringly curved – he could have gone on, the list long and _incredibly_ detailed.

Asami moved then, accompanied by the rustling shuffle of fabric. Mako felt the bridge of her nose against his jawline, nudging his face upwards. He obliged her, knowing what she sought. It hadn't been long since that first chance encounter, closer to a full week than otherwise, but Mako learned quickly that the young woman he was stupendously lucky to be dating was not necessarily shy with her displays of affection for him. Her lips, soft and moist, settled lightly at his neck, leaving him a tender kiss and perhaps the faintest trace of ruby-red lipstick.

Mako sighed, resisting the natural reaction of lifting his shoulder and tilting his head to cut off access to his neck. Asami's lips tickled him as she lightly suckled there. The soft laugh born of her throat was triggered by his involuntary jerk when he felt the tip of her tongue flick against him. It was a heavenly sound, he thought. Mako was already practically in love with her voice, but when Asami laughed or chuckled from the depths of her throat it sounded so…sensual. Perhaps it was simply the cause of his seemingly ever raging hormones these days, but he swore that he could hear desire at the edge of her voice. Lust, want, need. No, that probably was just his hormones talking. He and Asami had pretty much just met each other.

His hormones were not half wrong, however.

Mako blinked suddenly upon realising that Asami's soft, slender hand had begun to journey in southern directions. Before he knew it, as the touch of her lips to his neck lulled him quietly into unconscious acquiescence, her fingers were trailing along the steadily thickening line of his manhood. His erection strained against his trousers a while before he was aware of actually having one. He gasped sharply when that little detail finally sank in. Asami helped it sink in a little deeper.

"Mako, sweetie, is this for me?"

Okay, now he certainly was in love with her voice. The husk with which she spoke was infused just so with a measure of hungry desire and teasing playfulness. It spoke not to his rational, conscious self, but directly to that primal, instinctual man that hunkered down just below the surface of his skin. In a moment, Mako was suddenly uncomfortably warm and the collar of his shirt tight around his neck. Asami smiled up at him, somehow completely aware of what she had done to him though he had neither spoken nor moved. She slowly raked her fingernails along his constrained length; a heavenly torture.

"Asami," he finally managed to say, his voice tight and tongue dry, "I don't think…this might not be the right place for…"

For what? He had no idea what she intended upon doing, though one look at her eyes told him quite plainly. Asami's smile remained as she spoke in answer to him, if anything developing even more of a mischievous quality to it.

"You'll notice that the windows of this carriage make it somewhat difficult to look and see into? Also, perhaps you're aware that the driver has been faithfully circling the park for the last hour. He won't divert from that course unless I tell him to."

Asami's fingers swept up to the peak of his throbbing manhood and Mako knew it was no mistake when her thumb pressed down and marked the shape of its tip. Also no accident was the finding of his zipper.

"I want to see you," she murmured, slowly peeling apart metallic teeth and Mako's sensibility along with it. "I want to touch you, and taste you."

His hips jerked forwards into her hand at her words. Shame immediately coalesced at his cheeks, hot and bright, but Asami merely chuckled. With her other hand at his shoulder, she reached up to chastely kiss his lips. "You're so cute, Mako," she said as she drew away.

'Cute' was perhaps not the descriptor he was looking for right now, not when Asami unashamedly reached beneath the elasticated band of his boxers and drew his arousal out into the open. He was so very aware of every last one of her digits curved around his shaft, and of her thumb, which rose to the thin, puckered slit at his head and almost thoughtfully smeared the bud of clear liquid that sat there. With the action, Asami's fingers moved upwards in unison, and then down once again to complete the small stroke. Mako barely restrained a hiss, his breath catching like a thorn in his chest.

She looked up at him with calm, gentle eyes. "Sensitive?"

He shook his head first, unable to get words past his lips. "No, I...it's just that it's only ever been my own hand," Mako finished quietly.

Asami smiled reassuringly in return. "That's alright, sweetie. First time for everything. Just relax, okay? Breathe slow and steady. I'll take care of you."

And then without another word, she swung herself off their shared seat and settled confidently onto her knees in front of him. Mako's eyes grew in his head as she arranged her skirt tidily around herself before shuffling forwards. It was only when she reached up to his waist, hands firmly gripping his trousers that reality struck him true and his hands shot down to stop her.

"Asami, wait," he said quickly, catching her wrists. "You aren't seriously…this isn't appro –"

"Mako," she spoke good-naturedly, looking up into his eyes over his naked shaft as though suddenly having not a modicum of interest in it. "Relax, sweetie. I want to do this for you. I want to make you feel good."

After what she was freely laying out on the table in front of him, Mako couldn't believe he was hearing himself trying to talk her out of it.

"We practically just met, Asami. I think we should…wait…a bit…before we…um…"

Asami just smiled, let him realise by himself how ridiculous the words that were coming out of his mouth were. And it was not long before he closed his mouth, swallowing as he became aware that his silence was all but the permission she required. With her wrists still in his grip, Asami lifted her body, bringing her lips to his once more. They were plump, soft, pliant and moist. He was already beginning to appreciate that in an altogether different light.

"Where is my cool-under-fire, champion pro-bender?" Asami murmured against his mouth.

"Not quite champion yet," Mako whispered so quietly as though fearful of disturbing the dead.

"Not yet," she agreed, "but you will be, soon."

He was lifting his hips to let her draw his trousers down all the way to his ankles. He was parting his knees at her gentle insistence, inviting her to sit between them. He was growing ever tense with anticipation as she kissed her way along his right thigh. He was suppressing a growl of frustration as she merely breathed upon his eagerly twitching arousal, moving then to scatter feather-light kisses upon his neighbouring thigh. He was almost shivering at the sensation of her lush, raven hair tickling his flesh. And then Asami paused in her needless, oh-so-pleasant torture of him to look up into his eyes.

She was stunning, a seductress with devil-red lips whose temptation he never had a hope of resisting. Her hair, thick and wavy, fell hypnotically beyond her shoulders like water over a cliff, bouncing subtly with luscious volume with every movement of her head. Mako groaned, unbidden. Asami let her hands rest lightly upon his thighs, looking up at him with sparkling eyes, smiling and voluntarily mute.

Mako didn't know what she was trying to do to him, but the lust that was pooled at his core began to grow impatient, desperate, frothing like a wild beast. Her hands moved upwards, pressed flat against his skin, then downwards, knuckles curving to develop a soft arch in her fingers. The pull of her nails against his flesh was like a beautifully played chord of music. She could have asked any question of him in that moment and he would have answered 'Yes' regardless. He was a slave to her spell.

"Can I make you feel good, Mako?"

_Yes._

Her mouth engulfed him and Mako suddenly dwelt on a different plane of existence. He sagged against the wall at his back as warmth melted away the strength of his limbs. His capacity for rational thought went with it. All that remained was the most basic instinct, entwining his fingers into her luxurious locks, lifting his hips to fill her wonderfully warm, accommodating orifice with as much of himself as possible. Her tongue wetly lavished its attention upon the head of his shaft, lips a moist seal behind it. Slender fingers stroked unattended flesh, rigid as steel, hot with his pleasure. Mako groaned like a wounded animal, wishing he had stripped his hands of his damn gloves when he buried them anew into Asami's endless waves of hair.

He felt the muscles of her throat relaxing, allowing her to take him deeper. A part of him worried for her comfort then; he was of average length, not necessarily girth. But then he gave a mental shrug and his lust said 'oh well' because by the Spirits' collective balls this felt so _good! _Mako's hands moved, smoothing Asami's hair away from her brow and cheeks, holding it secure in his fist so that he could witness and truly appreciate her craft.

Her hands had returned to his thighs as she practically swallowed him whole, nails digging into flesh. He saw the skin at her neck pulse, her throat momentarily tightening around him in an instinctive flex before she managed to relax the muscles again. Courteous, Mako did pause when her lips parted in a quickly suppressed gag. Afterwards, assured that she was game to continue, he more than happily did just that.

Her mouth occupied, Asami smiled instead with her eyes, her verdant gaze flickering with heat. She gave a deep, tantalising moan that thrummed through his shaft when Mako resumed pumping his hips, selfishly using her mouth for his pleasure. He groaned again, essentially in reply as he felt an ominous tightening below the base of his throbbing, saliva slickened arousal.

He popped out from between swollen, ruby-red lips several moments later, Asami taking him in hand. She pumped with fervent passion, the raw, lustful heat in her eyes squeezing air from his chest.

"Will you come for me?"

_Yes._

"Soon?"

_Oh yes._

It was torture, delicious and cruel. He wanted to last a while longer, to enjoy and savour the warmth of her mouth with the eloquent patience of the wine-tasting socialites. But each pump of her ruthless fist was pushing him ever closer to that glorious edge; the crack of the master's whip. And oh, did he want to fall. To his knees, to his face, to his glorious end, lost in the ocean of his bliss. There, down on her knees in front of him, Asami had utter control over him, her will his way.

"I want to taste you," she told him, never dropping her eyes away. The desire etched into them was positively sinful. "I can't wait much longer, Mako."

And then her mouth was upon him again, cheeks hollowing with the fervour of her suction. With fingers lost deep within her locks and holding her head steady, Mako thrust with abandon.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

"_Asami!"_

And then there was true pleasure, a high like none other.

Mako shuddered as they each claimed the fruits of the labour that were to be had. The seal of her lips never broke around him, greedily consuming his essence. He belatedly considered that detail as he found the strength to lift his eyelids. He only realised how hard he had gripped her hair when he uncurled his fingers.

"Asami, I'm – I'm sorry," he said quickly, as with the tip of her digit she dabbed at a pearl drop clinging to the edge of her lips. "I didn't mean to…to…do that," he finished lamely.

She just smiled up at him. "It's the tidier alternative."

Mako frowned uncertainly however. She did tell him that she wanted to taste him, he supposed.

"And you don't taste all that bad," Asami continued. "Here, see for yourself." And she moved upwards and pressed her mouth to his before he could even think to move away, tongue pushing between startled lips.

The 'taste' was…well it was _distinct_. That was all the thought Mako wanted to give it. Not his most favourite thing in the world. Not something he'd jump at the chance to experience again. But he couldn't quite be repulsed by it, after all Asami had accepted it willingly – and the process to acquire it in the first place was most definitely agreeable to him.

Most. Definitely.

"Hey," Asami said, drawing his attention. "You're a gentleman, aren't you Mako?"

"I'd like to think so," he replied, skin still tingling with the euphoria of his climax.

"So…you won't object to returning the favour? Make a lady feel good?"

Mako grinned after a long, somewhat tense moment. Object? After the pure bliss that she had just permitted him to experience? His hands moved to Asami's waist as he spoke.

"No. No I wouldn't," he answered, and soon Mako was the one kneeling on the floor of the carriage between a pair of open thighs.


End file.
